Broken
by Absalom2692
Summary: Malcolm makes the mistake of intruding into his brother's private thoughts and discovers something he isn't prepared for. *Malcolm/Reese slash* Rated M for a reason.
1. Dear Diary

**AN: Alright, so this is my next multi-chapter fic. This month has been pretty crazy, so I should warn readers that I will not be able to upload a chapter every single day like I was able to with the last one. But I do promise to update at least once a week (more often than that, if possible) until the story is complete. **

**There may be some angst involved, but this should be significantly more light-hearted than the Between Brothers/Ghosts in the Deep story.**

**It IS Malcolm/Reese slash, so if you don't like that, then don't read. Simple concept. As for those of you who DO like that sort of thing, enjoy!**

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><p>Malcolm should have known right away that he was making a mistake, but for all his academic brightness, he had as much common sense as any average adolescent boy.<p>

So when he stumbled upon the ratty black notebook with the chicken-scratch title _Reese__'__s __Diary_, he immediately proceeded to thank every possible god in existence for bestowing such a magnificent gift unto his lowly self.

He didn't intend to find it, of course. He hadn't been snooping. He'd been lying on his bed studying chemistry, and when he'd dropped his textbook and leaned down to pick it up, he couldn't help but notice it: the tiny corner poking out from beneath Reese's mattress.

"No way," he murmured delightedly, flipping through the pages. It was at least half full. "No. Way." He felt a chuckle rising in his throat as he stared at the cover. "He _calls_ it his diary. He actually wrote that out." He covered his mouth to stifle his laughter. "Oh god, that's amazing..."

"Malcolm!"

He jumped at the muffled shout from the kitchen. "Yes, Mom?" he called back, shoving the diary back under the mattress.

"Dinner's almost ready! Come set the table!"

"Okay, just a second!" He spared a gleeful glance at the book's hiding spot, then went out to eat.

As stupid as it was, he couldn't help but feel a little worried that the diary would be gone when he went back to the room that night; as though fate would be so cruel as to whisk away the most potentially entertaining thing he'd come across in months before he had a chance to enjoy it. Or maybe it really _was_ too good to be true, and he'd simply imagined the whole thing. Or perhaps Reese would somehow notice that the little book was tucked under the mattress at a different angle and get suspicious.

But of course, none of those things happened, and when Malcolm excused himself from the table and slipped off to the bedroom, the holy grail was still there: _Reese__'__s__Diary_.

Hal and Lois had to get up early in the morning, so they were already getting ready for bed. Dewey was busy watching TV and (most importantly) Reese was working late, so Malcolm had the room all to himself for the time being.

After cracking the door briefly to make sure Dewey was still sprawled out on the couch, he eagerly opened the diary to page one and started reading:

_Day 1_

("Oh god!" Malcolm was laughing already. "Day 1! He wrote Day 1! That's brilliant...")

_Day 1_

_I saw a caterpillar today. He was trying to climb up the bench at the park. He wasn't doing it very well, so I picked it up and put it on the top. He looked happy until a bird flew down and took him away. When we went to the lake, I threw a rock at a goose as revenge for the caterpillar, but it chased me and pecked me on the ass. It hurt a lot._

Shoulders shaking with laughter, Malcolm rubbed tears out of his eyes, giggling uncontrollably. That was the only thing written on the first page, so he flipped over to the next entry.

_Day 2_

_Mom punished me today for drinking the orange juice out of the bottle. She said I should use a glass because no one wants to swallow the bacteria in my mouth. I asked if that was true, then why doesn't she punish great-aunt Helen when she kisses me at family reunions? She made me stand in the corner for thirty minutes._

Malcolm snorted into his sleeve, flipping the page again.

_Day 3_

_I think it would be fun to go to Australia. The man at the zoo says that's where the kangaroos come from. They seem like they would be a fun gang to hang out with. Maybe if we become really good friends, I could ride in one's pouch? I found a quarter on the floor at school, but the vending machine didn't take it. I pushed the button to get the quarter back, but the machine just beeped at me. I hate school._

"I'm gonna die," Malcolm giggled to himself in between bouts of laughter. "I'm seriously gonna die. This is such _shit_! Oh god...Anne Frank's got nothing on this..."

It went on like for page after page; just a series of deadpan entries about events that any sane person would consider banal. Malcolm's favorite was an absurd anecdote about a ladybug "fight":

_Day 32_

_I found a ladybug swimming in a drop of water on a leaf. It looked unhappy, so I picked it up with my finger and put it on the sidewalk. It hung around for a bit, so I think it was grateful. Then I saw another ladybug flying around, so I caught it and put it beside the first one. I thought it would be cool if they could be friends. But the first ladybug jumped on tope of the second one and started making buzzing noises. I don't think the second one liked it very much. I guess they were fighting, but it was sort of boring. There wasn't much of a struggle._

It was seriously like taking a peek into the mind of a genuine lunatic. Malcolm knew his brother wasn't exactly..."balanced," but this drivel seemed like something the crazy cat lady down the block would write.

As the writing became somewhat more legible (supposedly because Reese had gotten older), the entries grew longer, and the unintentional humor, whilst not entirely gone, seemed to lessen, replaced by something...different.

_Day 57_

_Today I beat up a kid at school for calling me stupid. If he didn't want to do my homework, all he had to do was say so. Sure, I might have stuck his head down the toilet for defying my authority, but I would have found someone else to do the work. There's no reason for that little fuckwad to call me names. Homework is stupid. All of it sucks, but Math is the worst. The teacher always calls on me even though I never have the answer. If she expects us to have the right answer, she should call on people who raise their hands. That's called logic. Also, Mom's making us go to some dumb science-type show the Krelboynes are doing. If you're a parent, you should make sure your kids don't have plans before you make plans before them. I was going to go to the reservoir (I learned the word reservoir today!) and explore. Now I have to wait until next weekend. But I guess it will be cool to see Malcolm do his whatever it is. I just hope it doesn't last too long because there's a horror movie marathon on tonight, and I don't want to miss it._

Malcolm raised an eyebrow, his amusement subsiding. That surprised him - not the part about the kid at school, but the fact that his brother had some interest in seeing his presentation. Reese had made a big fuss having to go; he'd punched Malcolm in the arm at least three times and sulked on the drive over. So that was somewhat odd.

He read on:

_Day 58_

_Dewey broke my bike. He says it was an accident, but that sounds like bullshit to me. I told him to make me a sandwich. I think he spit in it. I think I'm going to fail my English test. I tried studying, but what the hell am I supposed to do for it? There's grammar rules, and I don't really know those well. And there's that stupid book we had to read with all those fancy words. I lost my copy a couple months ago and I can't remember the title, so I can't get another one at the library. I only read the first couple of chapters. I had to stop when it got to that mushy stuff where they talked about feelings and love and whatever. I've only had a couple of real girlfriends, but even I know that's not what love is like. What kind of dumbass takes a girl to the beach for a horse ride? That's not romantic, it's painful. That would be murder on his nutsack. And then he wouldn't be able to do the business with her later on. Bad thinking. So it's a stupid book and I'm definitely going to fail the test. Mom will probably yell at me. That's not new. But I heard her talking to Dad the other day and he said I was hopeless. Which kind of sucks. On the bright side, Malcolm and I had fun last night. We crashed a party and snitched some beer. I think Malcolm broke a lamp on the way out. I've never seen him drunk before. It was funny._

For the first time since he started reading, Malcolm felt a twinge of unease deep in his stomach. Not guilt necessarily - Reese had snooped around in his personal shit plenty of times before - but it was definitely unsettling. This stuff seemed a little more personal. than ramblings about weren't deep thoughts exactly (he wasn't even sure Reese _had_ deep thoughts), but nevertheless, his brother was expressing his hidden emotions in private record, and Malcolm was intruding on something that was intended to be secret. It was a little creepy.

He considered putting it away for a moment or two, but in the end, he was able to justify continuing on. After all, it's not like he'd read anything especially devastating. And his curiosity about what lay ahead overrode any discomfort he was experiencing.

The next few entries were more of the same; complaining about school and grades and unfair punishments. Always ended on a happy note about time spent with Malcolm.

He skipped ahead to a longer page:

_Day 64_

_I can't remember why I started writing this, but I think it was to help improve my grammar skills. Or maybe just so I could look back and remember things I forgot later on. Dad always says people go a little batshit when they get old. At least, that's what he says about Grandma. So I thought it would be good to write important things down. But there's not much going on that's really important. School, I guess. But that's boring. I don't have any friends there, so there isn't much to say about it. Except I did hang out with that pigeon during recess yesterday. He was pretty cool, and I figured he might come back to hang again today. He didn't. I checked during lunch, too. A couple of squirrels were chilling out by the basketball pole, but no pigeons. Stuff at home's pretty much the same, too. Mom yells. Dad works on random things in the garage, and then gives up three days later. Dewey sucks. Except sometimes when he doesn't. I'm starting to think Francis is never going to come home. He doesn't call anymore unless he wants us to hide something from Mom. And even then, he always wants to talk to Malcolm because he's the smart one. How does he know I'll fuck stuff up if he doesn't let me try? But it doesn't really matter because Malcolm usually does it better than I would have anyway. Malcolm and I made plans to hang out the other day, but I spilled some tub of crap at work and had to stay late, so he did something with his friends instead, I guess. I don't know why he wastes his time with those stupid geeks. They only like him because he's smart and not as geeky as them. They probably think he makes them look better when they're with him. Which is stupid and untrue. They still suck. He'd be better off with me. Hanging out with me, I mean._

There was a little bit of smudged lead after that last sentence, as if he'd written more, then changed his mind and erased it. Malcolm frowned at the page, no longer amused. It was no shock that Reese didn't really have any friends. Everyone knew that. And it wasn't all that surprising that he was jealous of Malcolm. What was surprising was that his jealousy didn't seem to revolve around the fact that Malcolm had friends and he didn't, but rather that other people got to hang out with Malcolm separately from him. Like he wanted Malcolm all to himself. That's what the tone of the writing conveyed, at least.

But...why?

Malcolm was definitely no longer okay with what he was doing, but he figured one or two more entries couldn't hurt. And he wouldn't bring it up to Reese. He wouldn't rub it in his face, like he'd been planning to. He'd just pretend he'd never seen anything and let the diary remain a secret.

But he needed to read on. Just a bit further.

_Day 65_

_I ditched school after lunch period. I'm failing Math anyway, so fuck it. I've been having really weird thoughts lately, so I figured I could shake whatever's wrong with me by picking up some magazines. I had search three stores because the first one was too pricey and the second just had like a million copies of Time. Not helpful. But I found some pretty good ones in the end. One of them had a redhead lady, which I like. I jacked off to her more than the others. But it still didn't help. It fucking sucks. Looking at a pretty girl makes for good fantasies, but it's not the same. I don't know them and they don't know me. And they probably wouldn't like me if they did. Most people don't. But Malcolm likes me, I think. I mean, we're brothers, so he should like me a little bit? I hate this._

This was not okay. At all.

Malcolm felt a bit of a cold sweat coming on. Like the rest of his family, he was an expert in denial, but even he couldn't just dismiss something that was right in front of him. Reese was hardly the subtlest person in the world, and he was holding nothing back in his private writing. So it was pretty much out there now. An uncomfortable truth that Malcolm should have seen coming long before this moment where it was hitting him over the head.

He could still turn back. Sure, the meaning was obvious, but it was implicit. It hadn't been directly stated. So he could put the diary back in its hiding spot. He could never bring it up to anyone, and eventually he would be able to convince himself that he'd just misinterpreted something. And then he'd forget all about it.

But of course he didn't do any of those things.

Fingers moving like they had a mind of their own, Malcolm flipped to the next page.

It was a short entry. Just one sentence and an expletive:

_Day 66_

_I think I'm in love with my brother. Fuck._

Malcolm jumped at the muffled sound of the front door opening and slamming shut. Thinking quickly in his panic, he lifted up the mattress and shoved the diary back in its spot, then scrambled up onto his bed and picked up the chemistry book, holding it up in front of his face.

A few seconds later, Reese crept into the room, groaning tiredly. He spared Malcolm a brief glance, slugging his backpack down near the closet.

"You still up?" he mumbled, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hands.

It was a rhetorical question, but Malcolm responded anyway. "Yeah, just studying," he said, silently cursing the high-pitched way his voice came out. He willed his heart to stop beating so fast and forced himself to stop staring at his brother with eyes wide as saucers.

Reese stood in the middle of the room, shoulders hanging limp, and looked around aimlessly, silently debating something. He nodded to himself. "I think I'll take a shower in the morning," he said, dropping onto his bed fully clothed and wrapping the sheets around him. "I can barely keep my eyes open."

Malcolm nodded even though Reese had already shut his eyes and wasn't looking in his direction. "Is Dewey still watching TV?" he asked cautiously.

"Nope. Passed out on the couch. You get the bed to yourself tonight. Lucky day." Reese opened one eye to scowl at him. "Now shut the hell up and let me sleep."

Malcolm raised his palms in surrender. "Okay, okay."

Reese closed his eyes and drifted off to dreamland within a matter of minutes. Malcolm switched the lamplight off as a courtesy and got under the covers. But he didn't fall asleep for a long, long time.

This was not good. At all.

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><p><strong>AN: End of Chapter 1. Hope you liked it. More to come!<strong>


	2. Spontaneous Combustion

**AN: Ugh...yes, yes. I know I'm horrible for taking longer than a week to update. But it's not entirely my fault! You guys know how crazy this time of year is! In other words, I apologize profusely, but please don't stone me. I don't want to be stoned. (Unless it's with Mary Jane.)**

**Anyway, here's Chapter 2.**

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><p>As it turned out, things were actually worse than Malcolm had thought. If that was possible.<p>

The first thing he realized upon waking up the next day, once his brain was able to function properly and sort through the information overload he'd been exposed to the night before, was that he didn't feel particularly panicked. Shocked, perhaps.

Okay, shocked definitely. And a little disoriented. But not nervous.

Not disgusted either, which surprised him a bit. Sure, he considered himself an open-minded person who had no major qualms about others' sexual activity, and if Reese's interests extended to men, then that was just the way it was. No problem (even if it was rather surprising). But the incest taboo had always been a barrier even the most liberal-minded American tended to shy away from. It just wasn't done.

It wasn't something Malcolm thought about all that much. He'd studied _Oedipus Rex_ a couple of years ago, but couldn't recall having an adverse reaction to the incestuous themes, other than perhaps thinking _Huh, that's odd._

But that was just an abstract idea. Now he was face to face with a real life, flesh-and-blood situation: his brother had the hots for him.

Scratch that, his brother was _in love_ with him.

That was the quote. "I think I'm in love with my brother." Right there on the page, plain as day. Undeniable.

And yet, Malcolm didn't feel grossed out or disturbed. His first thought upon waking up was _How the hell am I going to bring this up?_

It was a genuine dilemma. There was no way he could just sweep this under the carpet, as he did with so much of the drama in his life. This was too important. But if he fucked up the inevitable confrontation, he could easily risk losing his brother forever. If he didn't make it clear from the outset that he harbored no ill will or judgment, Reese would undoubtedly close himself off. It would ruin him sexually, and emotionally. The whole thing was very delicate.

And it was strange to be thinking about these things. As intelligent as he was, Malcolm tended to focus his cognitive skills towards academics and various obscure hobbies rather than closely studying human behavior. He hadn't really thought much about the status of his relationship with Reese; it simply was what it was, nothing more to it. Until now.

He could see how it had happened; that was the really weird part. Reese had no real friends and spent virtually all of his time hanging out with Malcolm. They'd never really talked about feelings, or anything particularly deep for that matter, but the fact remained that Malcolm was probably the only person his brother had ever opened up to, even marginally. In some twisted sort of way it almost made sense that Reese fancied him. Almost.

But Malcolm was thinking about all of this while he lay awake in bed in the early morning, offhandedly listening to Dewey shoving things into his backpack out in the hallway. And he kept turning it over in his mind as he sat at the breakfast table, ignoring his parents as they scrambled around to try and get to work on time. And he was still thinking of it as he shuffled back down the hallway to use the bathroom before school.

He was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn't think to knock before opening the door and ended up colliding into Reese.

...who was exiting after a shower.

...in a towel.

Later, Malcolm wouldn't be sure if it was he or Reese who panicked first, but either way, one of them jerked in surprise and stumbled on the slippery bathroom floor, and the next thing they knew, Malcolm was flat on his back with the wind knocked out of him and his very wet, very naked brother straddling his hips.

Mere inches apart, Malcolm could feel Reese's breath on his face.

Reese froze, eyes wide. His breathing hitched and a weird sort of strangled noise escaped from his mouth. Malcolm would have laughed at the sound had the circumstances been different. But instead, he just gasped for air, his mind running wild with thoughts of...something.

And when Reese's brain finally kicked in and he pushed away, pulling the towel closer around him as he stood up, Malcolm felt a thrill of horror and shame at his body's reaction to the contact.

_Oh my God..._

"Sorry," Reese muttered stiffly, his jaw tense as he looked pointedly away from his brother.

Malcolm swallowed. "Umm...yeah. Yeah. It's okay. No problem. Accident." He shifted his legs discreetly, silently praying that his hard-on was sufficiently concealed.

Still not looking at him, Reese stretched out an arm to help Malcolm up, a painfully obvious blush tinting his cheeks. If the heated feeling in his face was any indication, Malcolm was blushing too.

Reese cleared his throat nervously. "Uh...right. Yeah."

Staring at a spot on the floor that had suddenly become very interesting, Malcolm nodded in agreement.

After a beat or two, he awkwardly shifted into the bathroom and shut the door.

Locked it.

Two minutes later, he was standing in the shower, absentmindedly lathering his hair with shampoo. His heart was beating so fast, he was sure it would burst. He closed his eyes and allowed his mind to wander. Allowed himself to drown in memories of the feel of Reese's skin against his body, of the deepness of the reservoir of emotion in his eyes, of the way his muscles looked when he...

And when he finally got out of the shower, Malcolm knew he wouldn't be able to look his brother in the eye for the rest of the day. The entire walk to school, his cheeks were burning, flush with embarrassment and guilt.

_I jerked off to my brother. You don't do that. NO ONE does that...well okay, Reese probably does that. To me. Oh, god...Reese probably jerks off to me. And I just jerked off to him. And...oh, god. What the fuck? What the FUCK?_

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><p>But there was a pattern to these kind of freak-outs. For all his intelligence, Malcolm was prone to very reactionary responses in emotionally driven situations. He panicked, then did something he would later regret...then realize later that he regretted it, then desperately try to fix it. All he needed was time to think.<p>

And what better time to think than during Herkabe's endless droning about the importance of imaginary numbers? Listening to the clicking of the clock hands and the soft scratching of pencils on paper, Malcolm found his heart beating more regularly; found the fog in his brain fading away to reveal the blinding truth in all its brilliance and clarity.

_I love him, too_, he thought numbly. And weirdly enough, that was far less scary than finding out that Reese loved him. Perhaps because, deep down in the repressed erogenous zones of his brain, he'd already been aware of his attraction. But his conscious mind had dismissed it as foolishness; dismissed it because there was no way in hell anything could possibly result from it. The whole thing was just a silly fraternal crush, more like hero worship than anything else. That was what Malcolm had believed, and it had been easy enough to accept. Far easier than, say, the possibility that he was totally, pathetically, madly in love with his own flesh and blood.

Except he was. And it wasn't just hero worship. And there _was_ a possibility that something could result from it. Because, against all odds and defying all logic, Reese felt the same way. In fact, he'd been the one brave enough to admit it to himself first.

But he would never admit it to Malcolm. Not intentionally. So the ball was in Malcolm's court. It was up to him to determine what to do about all of this. And as the hours of the school day slowly slipped by, his resolve became stronger and stronger. With a perverse thrill of horror and exhilaration, he knew exactly what he was going to do.

It was a stupid, stupid idea. But at least he knew that. And the fact that he didn't care that it was stupid, at least not as much as he cared that it might work, proved that his feelings were real. It wasn't just a phase.

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><p>Reese avoided him the entire rest of the day; didn't sit with him at lunch, didn't walk home with him from school, didn't even show up to dinner. But, inevitably, he had to face him. He slipped into the bedroom at half past midnight, presumably after work. It was almost pitch-black, so his eyes didn't adjust until he was right up next to his bed, whereupon he drew in a sharp breath at finding Malcolm waiting up for him.<p>

"Jesus Christ..." he hissed, clutching his chest. He glared at Malcolm, eyes narrowed. "You almost gave me a heart attack, asshole." He punched Malcolm's shoulder roughly and gestured helplessly between the beds. "What the hell are you doing on my bed?"

"Dewey was kicking," Malcolm whispered, silently proud of himself for keeping his voice steady. "Like he used to when we were little and he got nightmares. I tried to ignore it for a while, but...you know."

Reese squinted at him in the darkness, looking back at the other bed where Dewey lay breathing quietly and completely still. "He looks fine to me," Reese said grumpily.

"It goes off and on. It's not continuous flailing, dude." Malcolm threw back the covers and tentatively slipped underneath. He scooted over as far as he could on the thin bed and patted the mattress. "Come on, have a heart."

"What? No!" Reese snarled. Dewey grunted in his sleep, prompting Reese to lower his voice. "Fuck you, my bed's not big enough! Just take your pillow and sleep on the couch."

Malcolm shook his head stubbornly. "No way, it's freezing out there."

"Get a blanket."

"The big blankets are all in the wash."

"Well, get them _out_ of the wash and put them on the couch."

"No, no, they're in the _wash_. Not the dryer, the wash. They're still wet."

"...so?"

Malcolm groaned internally. "Oh, come on, dude! Please?" Even in the darkness, he could see how uncomfortable Reese was and almost considered backing down. But he knew he'd never work up the nerve to try this again if he stopped now. So he held his ground. "I promise I won't hog the sheets."

Reese's cheeks were flaming red. He looked up at the ceiling, chewing on the inside of his cheek. With a resigned snort, he rolled his eyes and plopped down on the bed. "Fine," he muttered, kicking his shoes off onto the floor and pulling the blankets up to his chin. "Good night." He turned on his side, facing away from Malcolm.

They lay there in silence for about ten minutes or so. Every now and then, one of them would shift a little bit to get more comfortable, but otherwise, they remained completely still. Malcolm stared at the back of his brother's head, heart hammering in his chest so loudly, it was a wonder Reese couldn't hear it. He could tell by the rigidity of Reese's posture that he was obviously still awake, so Malcolm steeled himself and took a deep, quiet breath.

_Now or never._

Closing his eyes and keeping his breathing steady to adequately feign sleep, he shifted forward slightly. His cheek sliding against the pillow made a soft rustling noise. He let out a long breath from his nose, tickling the back of his brother's neck. Almost unnoticeably, Reese shivered, freezing up even more.

Malcolm waited another minute or so, preparing for his next move.

Reese made it for him.

Yawning in his "sleep," Reese stretched, arching his back. His body slackened, and he rolled over to face Malcolm. Daring a quick peek, Malcolm lifted his eyelids slightly. Reese's eyes were closed. Their faces were less than a foot away.

For just a moment, Malcolm felt himself beginning to panic.

_This is a bad idea. This is a horrible idea. What the fuck am I doing? Abort! Abort!_

But then Reese shifted even closer and all of the thoughts swirling around in his mind were replaced by the deeply familiar smell of his brother lying next to him in the darkness.

Malcolm flung out an arm lazily and wrapped it around Reese's back. He pushed his face forward and down, burying his nose in the crook of Reese's neck.

It would have been inaudible had he actually been asleep, but Malcolm was definitely close enough now to hear the soft whimper escape from his brother's lips. Close enough to feel the thundering heartbeat behind the chest pressed up against his own.

Malcolm's patience evaporated almost instantaneously. He opened his mouth and pressed a wet, forceful kiss against Reese neck, rolling his hips forward so that their bodies were totally flush against one another. All pretense that this was unintentional flew right out the window.

Reese's breath hitched. Malcolm felt his Adam's apple bob against his mouth and he couldn't resist a victorious grin. He pulled away to look at his brother's face. Reese's eyes were wide open now. He stared at Malcolm, slack-jawed. His expression registered shock, but with a gleaming lust hidden beneath the fear.

"Wh-wh-wh...?" Reese stammered breathlessly, threading his fingers through Malcolm's hair fervently.

Malcolm took a deep breath, reaching up to stroke Reese's cheek. "I read your diary," he admitted quietly, tensing slightly in case a punch was coming.

Reese's eyes widened further for a moment or two. He gaped like a fish.

Then he let out a sharp, barking laugh, which he promptly smothered with his fist. Malcolm let out the breath, relieved, and snickered a little himself, remembering everything he'd read.

They stared at each other, smiling for a few moments.

Then, with a flash of determination in his eyes, Reese captured Malcolm's lips in his own for the first time...

...It wouldn't occur to Malcolm until the next day that this might be a very, very bad idea.

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><p><strong>AN: Alright, more to come. I promise I'll try to update sooner this time. It's just hard to find the time to write. But fear not, regardless of how long it takes, I will not leave this story unfinished! :P<strong>


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